Turnabout Triangle
by katekarson
Summary: Apollo experiences the effects of unexpected affections - both his own and those of others... Slash warning. Earlier chapters are T; later chapters will have higher content. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Though he'd known all throughout today's trial exactly how prepared he was – and exactly how guilty Kristoph Gavin was, aloofly standing there with his chin tilted upwards, condescendingly denying all claims until the very end – it was still an odd moment when he heard the jury's decision; odd as though he'd fallen out of himself and was hearing things from mid-air somewhere. Things had seemed to go on forever, and lies had woven the events of seven years ago so tightly to this trial that he'd felt almost tied down by them. Beside him he vaguely felt Trucy's presence, and it was oddly restrictive. Everything was wonderful, but... it was an _alone_ sort of wonderful.

He excused himself from the bar – and Trucy's company – as soon as he possibly could, leaving the congratulations of the courtroom behind him. A water cooler provided him with the hydration he needed before he sank down onto a chair in the lobby which, seven years ago, had been the hiding place of another victim of the man he'd just bettered. Thank _God_. If it had gone on much longer, he didn't know how he'd have managed to stay standing there. It was a draining profession... however, he couldn't complain. He could still feel the adrenalin pumping through his veins. It was exciting, too. Exciting to clear Vera's name, and exciting to further blemish his old boss's. He couldn't think of him as Gavin; not anymore. That name produced a mental image of his brother instead, now.

Klavier Gavin. Why had he turned against his brother? It was evident in his eyes that he, like Apollo, strove for justice – but justice alone, surely, couldn't motivate a man to condemn his own brother? The transformation had been astounding. First, the quieter, calmer Klavier that had seemed to wish to appear mature and seasoned before his brother – then, the smirking, confident professional that had been so eager to see that same relative shot down. Fancy the difference! But what had truly motivated it?

Outside, footsteps and voices – some hushed by the authority of the court walls, and others bold and unaffected – marred the silence of the corridor. Apollo ignored the noise; silence was preferable, but not necessary. He just wanted to come to terms with the end of this battle by himself, and though the crowd's chatter was distracting and interrupted his quiet contemplation, it didn't prevent him from doing what he had come here to do. He took another drink of water, and waited for the noise to pass. Before it did, however, another noise met his ringing ears – the sound of the door-handle being turned. Supposing it would be Trucy, come to celebrate, he stood; but instead he was met with a face quite unlike that of the young magician he had anticipated would enter.

"Gavin?" he ventured, though in truth he didn't need to ask, of course. The long, blonde hair and distinctive clothes were absolutely unmistakable, despite his bowed head, which raised at the voice. He, too, appeared surprised to have company, but embraced the notion of not being as alone as he'd imagined smoothly, and nodded with the usual slightly superior smile.

"Herr Forehead."

His shoes – which were heeled, of course, though not remarkably so given his natural height – clicked across the floor as he made his way over to the seating area, finding himself a place to sit down three spaces away from the one Apollo now re-took. There was a period of silence, which wasn't tense despite it all; Apollo interrupted it for fear of forgetting to say something if he didn't do so now. "Thank you for your help in there. You did great."

The blonde man looked to the side with an expression that didn't reveal as much weariness as Apollo supposed he felt. "Well, you certainly needed it." His voice, when it wasn't magnified so that an entire courtroom could hear it, was a softer purr than he might have expected had he not heard it before. The statement was matched with a smile, slightly coy, that served to soften what he was saying and make it more apparent that it was intended as a joke. Neither of them were in much of a state to be on top social form at the moment, and it was entirely possible that Apollo could have taken it the wrong way otherwise. As it was, however, he merely laughed.

"You could say that." It felt odd to be sitting and joking so casually with a man that he had, so many times, opposed in the courtroom. Much like students felt that teachers' lives did not extend beyond their classrooms, Apollo had never really thought about Klavier Gavin as a person beyond his profession and his music. To see him now, attempting to wind down after a troublesome trial, was almost surreal; surreal enough for him to hold his cup of water across and pass it to the other man. "Have a drink."

"Sure; thanks."

Gavin's Americanisms sounded odd in his accent, still slightly tinged with the Hannover German of his youth. It was something that Apollo had always noticed, but of course had never commented on. That would be a fine thing to say in court... "The defence would like to ascertain that the rest of the court agrees on the subject of the prosecution's accent being disturbingly interesting,". No doubt the judge would be impressed with that one – yeah, right. He looked across at Gavin himself as he waited for him to be finished with the drink, but found he was waiting in vain; the man had tipped the cup back and finished it all. Trust him. To his credit, however, he stood back up and filled it again before giving it back. After Apollo's mumbled thanks, the silence resumed.

Eventually Gavin leaned back against the uncomfortable court seat, eyes closed momentarily as he tried to rest. Apollo couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't taken off for home if he was this tired – and, indeed, why _he_ hadn't – but then supposed that there'd be the usual crowd of girls waiting outside for the Gavinners frontman to step outside and sign their autograph books. He pitied him this somewhat, and then this pity grew to encompass the other misfortune the man had encountered today. Again, it was Apollo that broke the silence. "Hey, I'm sorry about your brother."

It took a while for Gavin to respond this time, which Apollo supposed was natural despite his charisma. When he did, he opened his eyes and sat up again; there was sincerity in his expression. "He got what he deserved – just like he did six months ago." Perhaps the expression on Apollo's face was just as telling; Gavin tilted his slightly, and set a smile there as he continued. "There's no need to feel sorry for me – or for him." There was nothing much to say to this, so the smaller man simply nodded and looked down into his water, where he found there was also very little to discuss. Gavin solved the problem for him, however, by carrying on a few moments later. "I simply worry for the Misham girl. Vera."

"Yes," agreed Apollo, smoothing down his hair ineffectively. "Yes. We can only hope that the dosage wasn't high enough, and that she'll pull through."

Gavin confirmed his agreement with a hum, and had been about to say something else when the door opened far less tentatively than it had when the prosecutor had entered. Blue-caped Trucy stood there with Mr. Wright – or could he call him Phoenix, now? – brandishing the purple envelope containing the Gramarye performance rights that had finally been given to her. "Where've you been, Polly? I've been looking everywhere for you. Look what Daddy gave me – from other Daddy!"

The need to say goodbye to Gavin was lost in the humdrum of congratulating her, and being congratulated on the case, and thanking Phoenix; he managed to cast a glance at the man before he left the room, but it was only that, and the prosecutor wasn't looking his way at the time. Instead, he looked distantly at the wall opposite him, and fingered the cup – now empty again after another fit of his thirstiness – that he'd taken from Apollo's seat a while before. Still, it felt like something had changed there; though he looked more alone than ever, he also looked at peace, and Apollo felt loath to interrupt that with any sort of verbal closure, preferring to leave him alone with his few minutes of tranquillity before he was forced to face the proverbial music outside.


	2. Chapter 2

In the fortnight that followed the fatal Misham trial, Apollo allowed himself more rest and recuperation than he could really afford; then again, once Trucy had managed to perfect the arts and secrets that had been bestowed to her by her father, neither him nor Phoenix would really ever have to work again, so he supposed in the long run it wasn't much of a crime. It gave him plenty of time for visiting Vera, who was now getting her health back at home, sleeping in, and attending Trucy's weekly magic show; the latter of which had become the centre of his social life. Trucy's magic attracted people of all ages and personality types – he recognised various members of the audience, including wet university student Wesley... and, less predictably, the defendant in the same case, Wocky Kitaki, who, perhaps understandably, he chose not to approach.

Most notable, however, was the presence of someone whose attendance he would have counted on from the very beginning – Phoenix Wright. He never ceased to enjoy his adoptive daughter's talents, and though the attention he gave her magic was undivided, when the show was finished and Trucy was backstage tidying up, he was good company, and now that the Gramarye case from seven years ago was finally solved, he had turned out to be far more light-hearted than he had appeared before. It was evident from the way he spoke that he was a very intelligent man – frequently, he expressed a distaste for his current job, and Apollo supposed that this was because it wasn't demanding enough for a man of his capabilities – and he had a certain charisma in the way he told stories about his past life as an attorney that was capable of drawing anybody in.

Often, he would begin talking about a case that he had worked on in his younger years, and when Trucy had finished clearing away and freshening up after her performance she would simply join them silently, reluctant to interrupt the charming way in which her Daddy told stories. Commonly, others at the bar would take interest too, and for this reason he often had to miss out certain details about the cases – but this didn't prevent them from being vibrant, funny and engaging.

The final night of Apollo's self-designated free-time before he went back to seeking cases to take up happened to fall on one of Trucy's show nights, and he managed to find himself with at least thirty minutes of one-on-one conversation with Phoenix; as much as he liked Trucy, it was nice to have the man to himself every once in a while. "You know, I don't understand..." Apollo called over the music, hand on his drink as he leaned forward slightly on the table so that his companion could hear him. "I don't understand why you don't try to get your job back... get your life back... now that your name's been cleared of forgery."

Phoenix shook his head. "I've thought about it."

"What?"

"I said I've thought about it. I'm just not sure if it's going to be practical, what with Trucy about to spark off her big magic career. It's not like we're going to need the money, either, especially if you stay with us." He lifted his glass to his lips, but lowered it again before he drank as a thought occurred to him. "You _are_ going to stay with us, aren't you?"

"Well, yes; I was planning on it. If I'm welcome, that is."

"Oh, yes, yes – you're certainly welcome."

For a moment they didn't speak as the music thumped around them, and merely smiled as they hadn't really had the chance to do yet. There'd always been some joke, or something too serious for it; now, however, they could simply look at each other as friends. Apollo hoped they could consider each other that – true, Phoenix was older, but they'd seen the same cases together, and they shared the same sense of humour; and the same permanent place of residence, now, it seemed. They had Trucy in common, too, though so far as Apollo knew for now, he was merely _her_ friend, too. There hadn't been the moment to tell them the truth yet, and Phoenix didn't regret not simply springing it on them. It'd be better to wait.

Interrupting the companionable silence, however, came a blast from the past that turned Apollo as red as his clothes. As much as he doubted that his sexuality would prove to be an issue with either Phoenix or his daughter, he hadn't told either of them about it yet; well, it hadn't come up, and he hadn't seen a reason to bring it up manually. Still, he wasn't entirely sure that now was the time, and so as his ex-boyfriend Ryan approached with the usual wide, characteristic grin on his face, he felt that he'd have given anything to simply sink into his chair and become a part of it. "Apollo! Hi!"

"Hello, Ryan." He accepted the kiss on the cheek almost glumly, though of course he didn't give this away to the man in front of him; he'd certainly grown since the last time they'd seen each other, though that had admittedly been a long time ago, when they were both still at college. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Yeah; could say the same about you. What're you doing here?"

"Trucy – uh, the magician – is my friend. Erm... this is Phoenix, her dad." It was the first time he'd dared to look at Phoenix since Ryan's approach, and he was quite embarrassed by the twinkly expression he saw on the man's face.

"I see." Ryan's eyes raked, humiliatingly unsubtly, over his companion before he offered him his hand. "Ryan Morgan; ex-boyfriend."

"I gathered. Nice to meet you, Ryan." He returned the handshake firmly, Apollo noticed, and not without a hint of amusement. Thankfully, Phoenix was far more socially confident than he was, and managed to deal with the situation far better. "Well, I wouldn't normally turn a friendly face away, but Trucy's going to be out in a minute and then we'll be off, so..."

Thankfully, Ryan took the hint. "That's a shame. Maybe we'll see each other here again sometime... I'll see you later, Apollo." He smiled, and then after a moment added a wink. "I might call you." Mere seconds after he'd gone, Phoenix looked in the opposite direction with an amused glance, and then looked back right at Apollo rather pointedly, though without the slightest trace of irritation.

"Well..."

"He seems nice," prompted Phoenix kindly.

Defeated, Apollo gave in. "Yes, he's very nice. Just... very clingy." He looked up somewhat defiantly, and spoke as if trying to raise himself in his companion's estimations. "I dumped him; not the other way round."

Phoenix laughed. "Alright. But I think you know what I really want to know."

"Look, it wasn't like I was keeping it from you... it's not like it matters, is it?" He paused briefly, but Phoenix didn't say anything, so he carried on, sitting back a little with a tone slightly more despondent than before, his hands set before him on the table. "Or maybe it does matter. I don't know. I guess that's for you to decide."

"Oh, it matters," Phoenix said gamely, looking at the stage as a man walked on with a broom, sweeping up the streamers that Trucy had left behind. For a few moments, Apollo felt oddly crushed, as though the carpet of the future he'd imagined mere moments before had been tugged out from under him; and then something else altogether was tugged out from under him as his heart jolted at the feeling of a discreet hand, completely unexpected, resting gently on top of his. "It matters plenty."

Apollo's eyes flicked between Phoenix's hand and his face for the brief second the former remained where he'd placed it; his face flushed red as it was removed and he spoke as much as Phoenix did – that is to say, not at all. He merely sat in a state of shock until Trucy arrived, twirling in her cape, and then he found that all he possibly could do was pretend that everything was the same as it had been before she'd gone on stage, applauding and smiling as he always did. At the forefront of his mind, however, was the soft feeling of the ex-attorney's hand touching his; the thumb stroking gently across the top of his wrist before it moved away. Phoenix, meanwhile, sat in a state of composed satisfaction; he had suspected, of course, but it wasn't his place to tell the younger man that. He'd told everything he needed to know for now in the space of a few seconds – and then some.


End file.
